A New Understanding
by divoccae
Summary: AU. After Book 5, Harry returns to the Dursley's and finds something that sparks a whole new set of questions.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.

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><p>A New Understanding<p>

Harry Potter had learned from a young age not to ask questions about his parents. His uncle only ever referred to them as thoughtless drunks, and his aunt always paled before murmuring that her sister had been a fool. He never heard stories about his aunt and mother's childhood, or anything about his maternal grandparents. At times, he could almost convince himself that he had no parents at all, that he had simply one day come into existance, only to be found by the Dursleys, who hated fairy tales and anything that couldn't be explained by scientific logic. In his wild imaginings, he could picture Aunt Petunia holding his infant self on the porch, Dudley screaming from the safety of his playpen inside the house, while she and Uncle Vernon attempted to concoct a story for their neighbors to believe - that her estranged, recently deceased sister had left behind a baby boy to be cared for by her sister, and hadn't had the decency to ask before naming the Dursleys guardians of her only child.

But Harry knew this day-dream was false. After returning to the Dursleys his fifth year of attending Hogwarts, Harry knew that his parents had been real. He had watched his fifteen-year-old father tormenting Snape, the greasy, grumpy Potions Professor, and had heard Snape's younger self call Lily a "mudblood" after she had tried to rescue him. Embittered by the death of his godfather, desperate for some sort of connection with his parents, Harry had waited until the Dursleys left to go to an amusement park before sneaking into his aunt and uncle's bedroom.

He had rummaged carefully through the closet, looking for anything that might resemble a photoalbum or a childhood diary. In the end, he had found what he was looking for in the oddest of places - a small glass mason jar, almost completely hidden in a small pink boot in the furthest corner of the closet. Harry took both boot and jar into his second-hand bedroom for a better look.

The contents of the jar were laid out carefully on the floor: a quartz crystal, a few small shells that had probably been collected on a vacation somewhere, three mismatched pearl buttons, a charm bracelet with a broken clasp, and a small stack of photographs that were curved to the shape of the jar.

The first picture was of a family, a mother, father, and two daughters - one of whom was obviously his mother. The back read "Our new home, 1967" in a delicate scrawl that was much too neat for a child. The next picture was Lily sitting on a swing, not much older than she was in the first picture. It had probably been taken by his grandmother, Harry decided, turning it over. Nothing was written on the back. The following three pictures were of Lily and two other girls, who would probably be forever nameless to Harry, for all that they mattered. But the last picture was of his mother, slightly older, standing beside a boy with long black hair and an unforgettable nose. Scrawled on the back in a young girl's hand was written, "Me and Severus, 1971."

Harry turned the photograph back over, wondering if it couldn't be a coincidence. But then, Lily and Severus were both wearing Hogwarts robes, not yet having their house ties to tell them apart. It must have been taken when they were about to start at Hogwarts, because both children were grinning broadly.

'I heard that awful boy telling my sister about them,' Aunt Petunia had said of the dementors earlier that year, and Harry had just assumed she had meant his father, James. Now, he wondered if it hadn't been Snape she had been talking about.

Harry gathered the treasures up, placing them back in the jar. The jar was shoved back inside the boot, and the boot he hid beneath the pile of clothes inside his own closet.

When the Dursleys returned hours later, Harry had dinner waiting for them. He ate in silence while his relatives talked in rather cheerful tones about their trip. When they had all finished, Harry cleaned up without complaint, and without even being told, served his Aunt and Uncle tea in the living room, and offered his cousin Dudley a plate of cookies and hot chocolate. After he was certain there was nothing further that could be required of him, he carefully approached his aunt.

"What do you want?" she demanded, not even glancing up from her copy of Sense and Sensibility.

"Did my mum know Severus Snape?"

His voice was trembling, knees weak as he waited for a response.

Slowly, Aunt Petunia lowered her book, face pale.

"Where have you heard that name?" she whispered. "That... that horrible, awful boy. He used to live on the other side of the park, near the textile factory. Always skulking about like a sewer rat with bruised knees and dirty hair. I saw the way he looked at your mother - I knew he was trouble from the moment I first laid eyes on him. But Lily didn't care what the neighbors would think, she only cared about having another freak around like her..."

Petunia glanced up at him, studying his face. "They were thick as thieves, Snape and my sister. She was always bringing him home, showing him off to our parents. I couldn't believe they even let him in the house, as dirty as he was. Daddy simply loved him off the bat - said he was the brightest ten year old he'd ever met, and wasn't Lily so lucky to have such a great study partner when they started school? Mother was always inviting him to lunch, even after he and Lily would pull the most horrible jokes on me..."

"What's all this interest in Severus Snape?" Uncle Vernon asked. "Is that little slimeball a criminal in your freak world, too?"

"No, actually." Harry replied. "He's one of my teachers."

"A teacher?" Petunia scoffed. "No doubt you're his star pupil, son of his only friend and all."

Harry shook his head. "I'm pretty certain he hates me. He's always giving me detention, and yelling at me. Last semester he threw a jar of tentacles at me."

Uncle Vernon snickered softly, then turned the page of his paper. Aunt Petunia gave her husband a sharp look, then turned her attention back to her nephew.

"Why are you telling us this?" she asked.

Harry wasn't certain himself. "No one ever talks about my mum... what she was like. Who her friends were. I was just curious, I guess."

He turned and walked away, taking the garnered information with him to ponder over.

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><p>Please review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.

Thank you to those who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

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><p>A New Understanding<p>

One week after Harry learned about his mother's childhood friendship with Snape, a large barn owl arrived at his window. It carried a letter from Dumbledore, informing him that he would be spending the remainder of his summer holidays with Professor Snape. It was important, Dumbledore wrote, that Harry learn to Occlude properly. Harry was certain that Dumbledore was also hoping that he and Snape could put their differences behind them. He was also certain that it was doomed to failure.

Harry had packed his belongings and had gone downstairs to relay Dumbledore's message, only to find Aunt Petunia waiting for him with a letter of her own.

"I'm to take you to Snape's house on Spinner's End." the woman said, frowning in distaste. "Why a professor would choose to live there is beyond my reasoning. Run down, horrible neighborhood, it is."

"I'm sure I'll be fine." Harry responded, not quite sure what answer his Aunt was looking for from him. "You don't have to take me. I can take a bus."

"It's near enough that you can walk, I suppose." The woman sighed. "Go to the park. Through the woods, you'll come to a river. Cross it. You'll see an old oak tree with a heart and initials in it. Follow the path, and you'll see the last house on Spinner's End. That's where Snape lives."

Harry nodded, committing the instructions to memory.

"You'll be expected, no doubt. I'd hurry along if I were you."

He'd gone upstairs then, and gathered his trunk and Hedwig's cage. It was hard to believe that he was actually being allowed to venture outside on his own, let alone to spend the summer with Snape of all people.

The trek to Spinner's end was fairly uneventful - his trunk was bulky and difficult to move through the woods, but before he knew it, he was standing on the front step of a rundown row house, fist poised to knock.

Had his mother ever stood here, he wondered? Had she and Snape played in the street in front of the house?

Harry knocked as loudly as he could, hoping that he wasn't late and - if he was - that Snape couldn't deduct House points over summer holidays.

The door was yanked open, revealing a rather irate looking Professor Snape, dressed in a pair of black pants and a muggle-style button-down shirt. Without the robes, he looked rather normal, Harry decided. Almost muggle.

"You! Potter, what in Merlin's name has brought you, of all people, to my doorstep?" Snape demanded, stepping outside and glancing about.

"Um... Headmaster Dumbledore said I'm supposed to stay with you for the rest of the summer." Harry replied, feeling somewhat nervous. "Sir."

Snape glared at him. "Is that so? I have no recollection of such an arrangement being made."

"I've the letter right here, sir." Harry fished the parchment out of his pockets and handed it to Snape, who snatched it quickly from his fingers.

Upon careful examination, Snape growled, and thrust the letter back at Harry. He stepped inside the house, and cast a glare at the teenager standing rather awkwardly on the stoop. "What are you doing just standing there, Potter? Get in before someone sees you!"

Without a word, Harry pulled his trunk inside the door, stepping into a room whose walls were covered in shelves of books. As soon as Snape shut the front door, the shelves rearranged themselves, revealing a staircase that led to an upper level, and a parlour to the right.

"What's the ruckus about, boy?" A shout sounded from beyond the barely lit parlour, surprising Harry. He had assumed Snape lived alone.

"Damn Albus to hell!" Snape growled under his breath. He stormed through the parlour, and Harry followed, leaving his trunk and Hedwig's cage by the front door.

The parlour was small, holding a threadbare couch, a rocking chair and a wingback chair surrounding a functional coffee table near a small stone fireplace. A simple doorway through its back wall led to a small eat-in kitchen, in which herbs were drying from strings hung from the ceiling near the walls. The smell of thyme and rosemary permeated the air, but were not enough to conceal the scent of cigarette smoke drifting lazily from the older man sitting at the dinner table, his large, boot-covered feet propped up somewhat lazily on a stool.

"You're burning my lunch." the older man growled, sucking on his cigarette as his black eyes took in the sight of Snape and Harry.

"If you're so concerned, make it yourself!" Snape retorted angrily. He strode towards an ancient stove upon which a cast-iron pot stood. Harry could hear the contents boiling, and could tell from the set of Snape's shoulders that he was incredibly irritated.

"Where's your mother when I need 'er? She'd never let you talk to me like you do!"

"She left ages ago, you drunken sot!" Snape removed the pot from the stove the muggle way, using a holder to prevent burning himself as he poured what appeared to be stew into a bowl. "And if she hadn't, you wouldn't need to worry about how I talk to you!"

Something akin to pain flitted over the old man's face, but it was shuttered quickly. Looking from him back to Snape, Harry could see a bit of resemblance - their black eyes were the same, he decided, and even the older man's hair appeared to be as inky black and slightly greasy, just like Snape's. Unlike Snape, however, the old man was obviously much taller, and despite his age, still had the physique of a man who worked hard and did much heavy lifting.

"Is 'e s'posed to be yours?" That familiar black gaze settled on Harry, who couldn't suppress a flinch, even as the man put out his cigarette. "Doesn't look anything like you."

Snape slammed the bowl of soup down in front of the man in obvious fury. "Potter is not my son, he's a student! A mediocre one at that, one that the Headmaster seems to think deserves private summer lessons without so much as asking me first!"

Harry stepped back, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as the two men continued to snipe at eachother.

"Is 'e stayin' in yer ol' room then?" A spoonful of soup reached the old man's mouth, and was devoured. If the soup had been burnt, the man's face showed no sign of noticing it.

"The attic is not an appropriate room for guests!"

"No, it's an appropriate room for know-it-all witch-spawn!"

Snape's face paled for a moment, but soon the wizard controlled his emotions. "Sit, Potter. I'll be a moment readying a room for you."

Harry could only define Snape's departure from the room as fleeing, leaving him alone with the old man who was studying him carefully.

"Potter?" the stranger asked. "Heard that name before."

"I-I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I promise I won't cause trouble." Harry murmured.

A sad grin broke out on the old man's face. "'Sir', eh? No need to be calling me that. Tobias'll do just fine. I ain't been called 'sir' since Sev'rus was a boy."

"A-are you his... I mean, Professor Snape's..." How to ask, without being presumptuous? Tobias could be Snape's father, or just as easily an uncle, or older cousin.

Tobias arched an eyebrow at him, glaring down his nose - which looked less out-of-place on his larger face, than on Snape's thinner one. A moment passed, more soup was swallowed. "Yer professor is my son."

Harry had to smile - the way Tobias said 'professor' reminded him of his own feelings whenever Snape reminded him of his loftier position over his students.

"It's hard to imagine Profesor Snape as a child." he admitted shyly.

"Given your grades, Potter," came Snape's familiar drawl, "I find it difficult to believe you do anything but imagine."

Harry exchanged a panicked look with Tobias' somewhat amused one.

"Give 'em a break, boy, 'e's young yet." Tobias chastised.

"And what would you know of giving people 'breaks,' youthful or not?" came the haughty reply. "Come on, Potter, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

Harry followed Snape out of the kitchen and back towards the front door, where the staircase stood. They walked up the stairs, Harry glancing at the book-covered walls. There were no photographs of anyone anywhere in the house that he could see. No family portraits, no trace of Snape's past at all.

"Your father seems like a nice man, Professor." Harry said, attempting a civil conversation. Snape paused at the first door on the right, his back still to Harry.

"Not everything is as it seems, Potter."

A long-fingered hand grasped the door's knob, turned and pushed, revealing a small but serviceable room. Harry's trunk had been brought up already, and sat on the bed propped by the window.

"Er... thanks. You know. For letting me stay." Harry said, entering the room while Snape stood in the doorway.

After a moment's silence, Snape entered the room, looking about as though trying to decide if he'd missed something - though what, Harry wasn't sure. The Potions Master then began to speak.

"I have very few rules here, Potter. Clean up after yourself. If I give you an assignment, you will complete it on time. Do not answer knocks at the door, under any circumstance!" Snape turned to leave. "The water closet is across the hall. We'll begin Occlumency tomorrow morning at ten."

The professor turned on his heel, a gesture that - in his normal attire - would have sent his robes swirling dangerously about his legs. As it was, the sound of the door shutting with a thud was enough to make Harry jump. How was he supposed to survive the rest of the summer here, in Snape's domain?

Turning to his trunk, Harry began to unpack, placing his clothes in the dresser drawers, and piling books on the shelves by the desk. He settled Hedwig's cage on top of the dresser, and then opened the window. Looking out, he could see the mill, and distantly, the top of the swingset in the park on the other side of the woods.

Curiosity satisfied, he shut the window, and set about going downstairs to find Snape.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews this story! You make me smile, and your comments are always greatly appreciated! ^_^

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><p>CHAPTER THREE<p>

Tobias was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, and he watched Harry like a hungry vulture as the teenager descended the stairs.

"Don't get too many guests here." the old man grumbled. "Don't expect much."

"It's loads better than staying with my aunt and uncle." Harry offered, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. He sneezed a bit as a cloud of dust rose - apparently neither Snape nor his father used or cleaned the sofa very often.

"So ye say." Tobias stretched and turned his calculating gaze to the mantlepiece above the hearth, where a statue of an angel stood, holding an orb that glowed bright green. He sighed, and reached into his shirt pocket, digging out a worn pack of cigarettes. Thick fingers carelessly shook one of the cigarettes out, and stuffed the filter end into his mouth before retrieving a lighter from the same pocket. "Boy's in 'is ma's lab. Ye probably won't see 'im til tomorrow."

"Oh..."

It was difficult to keep the disappointment from his voice. Harry wanted to ask Snape about his mother, wanted to know why no one had ever told him before, that Snape had been friends with Lily throughout their childhood, even before their days at Hogwarts.

"There's food in the cubby if yer hungry."

Shaking his head, Harry offered the old man a small smile. "I'm not. Thanks."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, leaving Harry to stare at the floor while Tobias puffed rather obsessively on his cigarette. When at last Harry thought he'd go mad from tedium, Tobias made to stand.

It was then that Harry noticed that Snape's father walked with a very pronounced limp, favoring his right leg. He limped over to one of the numerous bookshelves and removed a deck of cards.

"D'ye know war?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Stammaring, Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Surely the man wasn't asking about the continual battle against Voldemort?

"Ye know. Card game. War."

A stream of air escaped his lips as Harry sighed in relief. "Sorry. Yeah, I know it."

Tobias tossed the deck of cards on the coffee table in front of Harry, and pulled the rocking chair closer. "Indulge an ol' man won't ye?"

Harry dealt the cards, and placed his first card on the table. King of Hearts.

"If you don't mind my asking sir," he ventured, "is the Professor's mother..."

"Dead?" Tobias asked, frowning as he placed his own card on the table. Two of Spades. "She'd 'ave to 'ave a heart for tha' to 'appen."

"I'm sorry." Harry took both cards and placed them off to his right, not quite certain whether he was apologizing for having won the first round, or for Tobias' apparent falling out with Snape's mother.

"No need fer 'sorry.' Like the boy said, 't was a long time ago." He threw down an Eight of Clubs, winning Harry's Five of Diamonds. "'Sides, we had a few good years 'tween us."

Four more rounds passed in silence, with Harry afraid to press Tobias further. He didn't want to risk upsetting the old man - for all he knew, Snape's temper had been inherited from his father.

"Yer living with yer aunt and uncle, eh?" Tobias inquired. "What 'appened to yer parents?"

Caught off guard, Harry put down his card with a shaking hand. "They died, when I was really little."

Calculating black eyes were on him then, searching his face. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Harry shrugged. "I don't remember much of them, so there's little to miss I guess."

Except that there was much more than a little to miss. His parents deaths had left a crater in his life that Sirius had been so desperately willing to fill. Parents could never be replaced, though, and Sirius was dead. The most mothering memory he had of Aunt Petunia had been days earlier, when she had actually answered Harry's curiosity. It just wasn't the same.

"Yer a bad liar." Tobias snorted. "An' some might argue tha' ye've got the best of both worlds."

Harry had no doubt that the man was speaking of his son, Snape.

"I don't see how. I'll never have a memory of my mum tucking me in, or my dad telling me how great I did during a Quidditch match."

"Tragic, yes." Tobias nodded, playing his own card. "But... ye'll never know wha' it's like to 'ave yer parents angry with you. How it'd feel to 'ave yer da punish ye. Ye'll never know their disappointment."

Recalling the brief glimpse of Snape's childhood from the solitary moment he had managed to Occlude, Harry thought he might understand what Tobias was saying. Snape had witnessed his parents argue, lived through the pain of his mother's abandoning him to his father. Any illusions about his parents and their marriage had been shattered from a young age.

Before he could formulate a question, Harry's stomach decided to growl loudly.

"Guess it's getting t'be abou' tha' time of day." The old man mumbled around his cigarette, ignorant of the ashes that fell from the tip to land on his worn trousers. "Let's see if I remember my way 'round the stove."

Tobias limped heavily into the kitchen, abandoning his cards on the coffee table. Harry followed suit, watching as Snape's father fumbled around several cupboards in search of something edible.

"Beans, beans, more beans!" came an amused mutter. "Tell me, d'ye even like beans?"

"I've had much worse." Harry replied, thinking of the only time he'd ever had to endure his aunt's hopeless attempts at cooking. There wasn't much that could go wrong when cooking beans.

"Beans i' is then." The can was removed, contents poured into the cast iron pot and heated carefully. Harry sat attentively at the wooden table, watching as Snape's father stirred the beans one-handed, and wondered if he ever would have experienced such a thing were his own grandparents alive to take care of him, and not Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

"Isn't this a sight," Snape drawled, suddenly standing in the doorframe. "Finally learned to boil something in your old age?"

"There's plenty for ye if ye wan' some." Tobias replied evenly.

Snape shooed his father away from the pot, allowing his father to sit as he spooned beans into two bowls. "How many times must I tell you not to smoke over food? You get ash everywhere!"

Harry murmured his thanks as Snape set one bowl in front of him, and watched as the second was placed in front of his father.

"Wouldn't mind giving up the smokes if ye'd le' me have a drink in peace now an' then!" Tobias growled.

Fire leapt into Snape's eyes, a look Harry had seen once before, right after being caught in Snape's penseive. He jumped as Snape slammed his hands palm-down on the table, glaring at his father, who glared right back.

"Have I been uncharitable, old man? Have I been unreasonable, hm?" Snape pondered silkily. "Who is it that makes your meals, who sees to your needs? I've given you far more than you deserve! Better people than I would have left you to rot!"

"Ha! As if ye've someplace else t' go!" Tobias laughed. "Ye're the one tha' showed up on my doorstep! I didn' have to le' ye in!"

The color drained out of Snape's face, and Harry could see him visibly waver. His hands balled into fists, and trembled at his sides.

"Don' think ye're doing me any favors, boy!" Tobias was huffing in his fury, black eyes bright with hellish fire behind them. "I did well fer myself before I ever met yer mum, and I did jus' fine before you came crawling back!"

Snape's black eyes flickered from Harry to his father. In his experience, Harry could tell that Snape wanted verbally destroy his father, maybe even throw a chair across the room, but something was holding the older wizard back. It wasn't quite fear, or at least, not a fear of Tobias. Perhaps he feared that Harry would hear something embarassing. Whatever the case, Snape huffed and turned on his heel, leaving the room without a word. The sound of his shoes on the stairs reached Harry's ears.

Tobias had relaxed in his chair, and was glaring down at his bowl.

No longer feeling hungry, Harry left the table. Homework seemed much safer than dealing with Snape, or his father.

Once he was safely inside his room, Harry sat down at the small desk and stared at his Potions text. Would his entire summer be this tense? How could Dumbledore expect him to learn Occlumency in this environment?

As his frustration boiled, Harry decided to write a letter to the only people who would understand. Ron and Hermione might not be able to do more than sympathize with him, but at least they would know what he was feeling, and try to make him feel better. He wrote about his summer, finding his mother's childhood photographs in his aunt's closet, going to Spinner's End, and watching the increasingly violent outbursts between Snape and his father. When at last he was finished, he went to the window and opened it. Hedwig flew down from a nearby tree, and he tied the parchment to her leg.

"You know where to go, girl." he murmured, offering her a treat.

Hedwig hooted once before taking off, flying into the night. Harry sat on the bed and stared at the door, wondering what the morning would bring.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews this story! You make me smile, and your comments are always greatly appreciated! ^_^

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><p>CHAPTER FOUR<p>

Harry woke up at seven o'clock, a full three hours before his scheduled Occlumency lesson with Snape. Sunlight streamed through the dirty window as he dressed. As an after-thought, Harry dug into the bottom of his trunk for the jar of his mother's possessions and sat it on the desk. He tried to imagine her sitting at this desk while she and Snape spoke of their future at Hogwarts, but recalled from Snape's conversation with his father that his childhood room had been the attic. For all Harry knew, this room may have been a simple guest room, or perhaps the bedroom of another relative.

The hall was empty as he opened the door, and Harry took a moment to look more closely at the upstairs arrangement. Across the hall stood a small, functional bathroom, and to his right were two more doors, both shut. At the very end of the hall, a narrow, wooden staircase had been lowered, leading up to a square hole in the ceiling - Snape's old bedroom.

Harry was curious to see it, but didn't want to chance being caught snooping by Snape. Instead, he turned left and headed downstairs.

If he had expected to see anyone in the kitchen, it would have been Tobias. As it was, Harry inadvertantly walked in to see Snape standing over the kitchen sink scrubbing out the dirty dishes from the night before. A piece of half-eaten toast sat on the table, abandoned as the wizard worked in his task.

"Uh... good morning." Harry offered, uncertain how to act in the man's presence so early in the morning.

Snape didn't turn around, didn't return the greeting. "There's not much to eat. You'll have to have toast or beans until my father returns tonight with groceries."

"That's fine." Harry replied quickly. "Toast sounds fine. Where... um..."

Snape pointed to the toaster and bread box with the scrub brush, then returned silently to his task.

The bread had been bought at a muggle grocery store, Harry realized as he recognized the label. He took two pieces and stuffed them into the toaster, and set it to the lightest setting. "Is your father a muggle?" he asked. "I'd always assumed you were pureblood, being Slytherin and all."

"Mr. Potter," Snape began. "Just because you are in my home for the summer does not excuse your impropriety. I am your professor, I deserve a little respect."

"Yes, sir." Harry corrected himself, barely containing the urge to roll his eyes. "Is your father a muggle, sir?"

"Yes, Potter, my father is a muggle." Snape replied. His voice was thick with barely suppressed irritation. "He works at the butcher shop."

This new information - freely given - surprised Harry, who had yet to see evidence of any sort of meat in the house.

"Do try to act a little less surprised, Potter, it's an insult to me as your host."

At that moment, Harry's toast popped up, and he grabbed it quickly, tossing it onto a paper towel. The refrigerator - a small, yellow thing that looked like it had come out of the seventies - was a disappointment to Harry, who preferred his toast with a bit of butter. The contents of the fridge were sparse - a small container of milk, a jar of strawberry jelly, ketchup, and pickles sat on the top most shelf, while the bottle shelf seemed completely dedicated to beer.

Trying to hide his disappointment, Harry took the jar of jelly.

"Where are the butter knives, sir?"

"That drawer to your right." Snape replied, now drying the dishes.

After Harry had scraped a bit of the jelly over his toast, he returned the jar and sat down with his breakfast at the table. It was odd, not having to make breakfast for anyone else, almost as odd as fantasizing about his eleven-year-old mother eating a snack perhaps in the very chair he now sat in. Would Snape have stood by the sink when he was eleven, or would Lily have made him feel comfortable enough to sit down at his own dinner table?

"Aren't you going to finish your breakfast, Professor?" The question was presumptuous, and Harry almost wished to take it back as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Snape looked to the half-eaten toast on the counter as if seeing it for the first time. "Worry about yourself, Potter. I'm an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Will your dad be able to get back into the house on his own?"

"Curious today, aren't you?" Snape sneered. "The wards on the house recognize my father, Potter. They will work for him the same way they work for me."

The nuaunces of ward magic eluded Harry. Blood magic apparently afforded him protection with the Dursleys, because he and his Aunt were related by blood. Grimmauld Place was protected by a Fidelius charm, something that could only be broken by the Secret Keeper. Of the two, Harry supposed blood magic was what had been used to ward the Snape home.

Snape was leaning on the kitchen counter now, staring out the window that looked over the river towards the woods and the park. Slowly, he turned around and looked at his pupil who was licking jelly from his fingers.

The professor was considerably paler than usual, Harry noticed, with the exception of the dark circles that were beginning to form beneath his eyes. The attic bedroom had probably not been comfortable even when Snape had been a boy, and now as a full-grown adult, it was probably less so. It was not so difficult to imagine his own reaction should the Dursleys ever force him back into the cupboard under the stairs - he wondered if Snape felt the same way about his attic.

"Are you alright, sir?" Harry doubted that Snape would admit to being ill, even if he was suffering from the worst influenza the world had to offer. The man was notoriously never sick during the school year, and with his laboratory at his disposal, it was little wonder. Yet, there was something about the man that was decidedly off. Harry had yet to see Snape perform any magic at all since his arrival, and while Snape was often strict about the use of wand-waving in his classroom, it seemed impossible to imagine a wizard restricting the use of his magic inside his own home.

"I'm perfectly fine!"

If Harry longed to yell back at Snape, it was interrupted by the sound of talons scraping against the window pane. Snape whirled around, glaring at the snow-white owl outside. Long fingers unlatched the window and threw it open, letting Hedwig swoop inside and land on the back of Harry's chair.

"Hey there, girl. I wasn't expecting you back so soon!"

"Undoubtedly your little friends are planning to rescue you from the Headmaster's latest scheme." Snape muttered bitterly.

Harry ignored him, removing the parchment from Hedwig's leg. He opened the letter and drank it in, feeling warmth spread throughout his chest as he read what his friends had written. They were happy that he had found some of his mother's possessions, shocked to learn that she had known Snape in her youth, and worried that he would be spending his summer with the reviled Potions Master. Hermione had gone on for nearly four paragraphs speaking of the deplorable behavior Snape had shown with his father, and urged Harry to let them know immediately if the violence escalated.

If only it had stopped there.

He had just begun to read Hermione's half-hearted apology for relaying the information to Mrs. Weasley when a resounding crash echoed throughout the run-down house.

Snape stepped into action before Harry could register what was happening - the older wizard grasped him by the upper arm and shoved him into the far corner of the kitchen. "Don't. Move."

Shocked, Harry was silent as Snape strode towards the wall that separated the kitchen from the parlour, peering around it cautiously. Snape's shoulders relaxed minutely as he shook his head.

"One might think someone of your advanced years would know how to knock." the wizard drawled, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Come now, Severus," Albus Dumbledore replied soothingly. "Surely you can recall what transpired the last time I knocked on your door?"

"What more do you want from me, Headmaster? Potter is already here, if that's what this is about."

Snape turned and walked back towards the kitchen sink, letting Dumbledore enter the room.

"Ah, yes, hello Harry." Dumbledore greeted, eyes twinkling.

"Hello, sir." Harry murmured, looking towards Snape uncertainly. No doubt the professor knew that Harry had told Ron and Hermione everything he'd seen. Why else would Dumbledore suddenly appear, bursting through Snape's front door?

Dumbledore sat in the chair that Harry had been occupying, offering Hedwig a calm pat to the head. When neither Harry nor Snape moved to join him at the table, the older wizard cleared his throat. "I recently received several letters, Severus, concerning your behavior."

"I hardly think this conversation is appropriate in front of a student, Headmaster."

"On the contrary, as it concerns Harry Potter specifically, this conversation is entirely appropriate, and perhaps long overdue." Dumbledore's gaze hardened, leveling Snape with a single glance. "Petunia Dursley seems to think you threw a specimen jar at Mr. Potter last year. Is this an accurate statement?"

Snape wilted, grasping the counter behind him weakly.

"You know... what he did! What he saw! I wasn't... wasn't thinking. Clearly, I wasn't thinking. It was instinctive!"

Harry watched as Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes softening somewhat as his focus shifted towards Harry. "I do not blame you, Severus. Harry was not hurt, and I don't believe you intended to hurt him. But you have many burdens, Severus, and it's beginning to show. To make matters worse, Petunia Dursley is threatening to contact the Board of Directors if I don't attempt to punish you for your behavior."

"That woman is an insufferable gossip, Albus!" Snape cried. "Her greatest pleasure is making my life miserable!"

"Be that as it may, Severus, I have no choice. Every day you are to spend one hour with an appointed councilor. I believe muggles call it 'therapy.' It's supposed to work wonders."

"W-what?"

Harry didn't like the way that Snape's face was quickly draining of all color, or the way that his eyes were glittering feverishly. He wondered why Dumbledore was not looking at Snape, wondered if Dumbledore was angry with Snape for his behavior in front of a student.

"I've fixed your front door, Severus." a familiar voice stated softly. "I'm afraid we were a bit forceful."

When Remus Lupin walked into the room, Snape seemed to lose any control over himself he might have had.

"Are you mad?" he demanded, pointing at the werewolf. "You can't honestly expect him to stay here! There's no room, no food, no protection from him here!"

"I've already approved payment enough to generously cover the cost of food, the nights of the full moon we've already arranged for him to stay at Grimmauld Place, and I'm sure that Remus wouldn't mind transfiguring a sofa to sleep on."

"I've slept on much worse!" the werewolf agreed cheerfully.

"No." Snape replied.

"Severus." The tone to Dumbledore's voice was full of warning - Harry didn't doubt that one way or another, Snape would do as he Dumbledore demanded.

"Fine! Have your way!" Snape growled, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. He walked towards Remus almost drunkenly, avoiding looking at anyone in the room at all. "And while you're at it, you can explain this travesty to the old drunk when he returns!"

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><p>Please review! They keep me going when my classes drag me down! ^_^<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I apologize for the long overdue lateness of this chapter. It was difficult to finally hash out, but I hope you enjoy it!

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><p>CHAPTER FIVE<p>

Tension hung thickly in the air by the time Tobias Snape arrived home. Remus had just finished drying the last of the sparse flatware and was spelling the plates back to their proper shelves when the old man came limping into the kitchen, arms full of bagged groceries.

"What're YOU doing in my house?" he demanded of Dumbledore, who stood up swiftly.

"It's been a very long time since I've seen you, Mr. Snape." Dumbledore stated simply.

Harry felt the hair prickle at the back of his neck; Tobias slammed the groceries down on the table.

"I told ye never to come back!"

"Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Snape?" Remus suggested.

"I'll sit down when I'm damned good and ready to!" Tobias ground out slowly through clenched teeth. "Tell me why yer here, an' get out!"

"_Severus_ should join us first." Albus suggested, never once taking his eyes off of Snape's father.

"Is tha' what yer so concerned about? Think I'm gonna get drunk and knock Potter here about?" Tobias scoffed. His large hands fumbled in his overcoat pocket for his cigarettes, and trembled with rage as he brought one to his lips and lit it. "I don't go about knocking sense inte other people's brats."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Dumbledore replied honestly. "I must confess that Severus led me to believe that you were dead, Mr. Snape. Some years ago."

"Boy's always had a knack fer lyin'. Did my best te try an' curb that." The old muggle shrugged and blew out a puff of smoke. "But I can't say that he wasn' close te tellin' ye the truth. 'S how I got this gait."

Before any of the three wizards present could inquire further about Tobias' handicap, Snape appeared in the doorway. He was still rather pale, black eyes dull and staring at his father. Wordlessly, he crossed the distance to where the groceries sat on the table, and began unpacking the bags. Harry couldn't decide if the Professor was purposefully ignoring the tension in the room, or if he was truly oblivious to it. Snape made his way towards the kitchen sink, and both Remus and Harry moved aside to give him space, watching in silence as the wizard began to carefully wash the vegetables he had removed from the grocery bags.

"Yer being rude, boy." Tobias growled.

Snape ignored him, and removed a cutting board from a cabinet. He then set about chopping vegetables.

"Severus, why don't you join us at the table? Have a seat?" Albus asked softly.

Snape shook his head, and continued about his set task. Once the carrots and turnips and parsnips had been chopped, he removed a large pot from a lower cabinet, and set it on the stove. Water was added to the pot, followed quickly by the vegetables and fat trimmed from what appeared to be lamb. The contents were set to heat, and Snape retrieved a skillet.

Slowly, Dumbledore moved towards Snape, until he was close enough to put his wizened hands on Snape's shoulders. "Severus, sit down."

Snape turned around, and Harry was surprised to see the difference in the wizard's heights. The Slytherin was forced to look up at an angle to meet Dumbledore's eyes "What do you want from me now, Dumbledore?"

"The truth." Albus stated. "Please sit."

Once they had all taken to seats around the table, it was Tobias who spoke. "Tell 'em, boy. No lies, neither."

Severus glared at his father briefly, then turned his gaze to the tabletop. "The day I graduated... I... came here, to get a few of my mother's belongings. To take with me. To Lucius'." He took a shaky breath. "I had my bag packed and laying by fireplace, and Lucius was telling me to hurry up. Then..."

Tobias let out a puff of smoke. "I came home. Made the mistake of grabbing the boy by the wrist when he tried te run."

Unconsciously, Snape rubbed his left forearm, where Harry knew the Dark Mark to be. "I thought he was going to kill me. I... don't even remember most of what happened. I turned, and I think... I think I shouted. Then there was blood. Everywhere."

Tobias nodded. "Hurt worse than a whiskey hangover. Almost passed out, I did. But not 'fore that girly friend of yers told ye to finish me off."

Harry bit his tongue, trying not to laugh at Tobias' description of Lucius Malfoy.

"I was in shock. Lucius must've thought he would eventually bleed to death anyway, because the next thing I remember, I was at Malfoy manor, and he was telling me to undress so I wouldn't drip blood on the carpet." The professor looked up at Dumbledore, black eyes pleading. "I honestly thought I had killed him. I didn't learn the truth until after... that night. When He..."

Dumbledore nodded. "I remember."

Snape nodded, but Tobias spoke. "I was just about te go te work tha' night. Imagine my surprise te open the door an' see 'im drunk as a skunk an' out on the stoop!" He barked a laugh and shook his head, smiling maliciously at the dark-haired wizard. "Threw up all over the rug when I brought 'im inside."

A slight flush of embarrassment rose in Snape's cheeks. "Is that really necessary?"

"'S truth." Tobias let out another puff of smoke, and chuckled darkly. "Ye were really sick, I almost took ye to a hospital. Kept askin' me fer someone named Ivan, or Evan, or..."

"Evans?" Harry chimed. "You were asking for my mum?"

"Evans?" Tobias looked thoughtful. "Wasn't that the name of that..."

"SHUT UP!" Snape snarled, standing up so quickly that he almost fell over. "I don't want to think about that! It's bad enough to be discussing THIS!"

Tobias stood up as well, and towered over his son, who seemed to shrink back.

"Gentlemen!" Albus interrupted, standing up as well. "We're almost finished here, I believe. If you could just answer one last question, Severus?"

Snape hung his head, and sank back down slowly into the chair.

"Is there anything, anything at all, that you feel will impair your ability to tutor Mr. Potter this summer?"

After a long moment, Snape looked up, his gaze catching Harry's. "No."

"You will not hold the past against Harry?"

"No."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, then, now that that's been settled... I had best get going. I've a long journey ahead of me tonight."

As the Headmaster started to leave, Snape looked as though he wanted to follow. His onyx-eyed gaze followed Dumbledore towards the doorway, and seemed to watch through the wall as the older wizard left, shutting the door loudly behind him.

"I'll finish making the stew," Remus announced, resuming Snape's position near the stove.

Snape didn't argue, just simply sat still, disbelieving.

Tobias huffed, and limped towards the stairs without a word.

"Er..." Harry started, trying to break the silence. "I know that you were friends. With my mum that is."

Remus turned his head slightly, watching Harry and Snape out of the corner of his eye.

Snape barely moved, his eyes unblinking. "Whoever told you that lied to you."

"No, I'm sure it's the truth. Aunt Petunia -"

"DON'T. Say that name around me." Snape hissed.

"But -"

Snape focused on Harry more clearly, fire in his eyes. "Mr. Potter, that MUGGLE set into motion things that your tiny little mind can barely comprehend. She will lie, and cheat, and stop at nothing to make herself feel superior to those around her. SHE might have believed that your mother and I were friends, and at one time in my life, I might have believed her. But I was there the day that your mother decided to stop talking to me, and would you like to know what she said?" Snape didn't give him the chance to reply. "She said that none of her friends could understand why she even talked to me."

Harry swallowed thickly, digesting the bitterness in Snape's voice.

"So you can see, Mr. Potter, that your mother and I were childhood acquaintances. And I can guarantee you that your AUNT and I were childhood enemies."

As Snape stared him down, Harry could do nothing but ask the question that had been weighing on his mind since Tobias recalled the story. "Then why did you ask for my mother that night when you came back here?"

Snape's face seemed twisted in pain. "I wasn't asking for your MOTHER," he spat. "I was asking for hers!"

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><p>- TBC<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story so far! ^_^

AN: This chapter doesn't follow the same format as the previous chapters. It might seem out-of-place right now, but I promise it's important for chapter 7. And if you can't tell from the following notes, Tobias Snape – to me, anyway – is Welsh.

/tad/ = Welsh for "dad" or "father"

/tad-cu/ = Welsh for "grandfather"

/modryb/ = Welsh for Aunt

/bachgen/ = Welsh for "boy"

Character Information:

!Severus Snape: b. 9 Jan 1960

*Tobias Snape: b. 31 Oct 1928

*Eileen Prince: b. 25 Dec 1931

! = Official character & official birth date

* = Official character, but I made up the birth date

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>

_Summer 1968, Spinner's End_

"I want to go _outside_." Severus grumbled, looking longingly through the parlour window out into the street where several children were playing.

His mother never looked up from her cauldron where it was set up in the kitchen. "You can't go outside, Severus. It's too dangerous out there. You know that."

He let out a frustrated sound, and watched jealously as the children laughed together. They all seemed to be having a wonderful time together, oblivious to the existence of the eight-year-old boy watching them.

"I want to go back to _tad-cu_." They had only just recently moved into the last house on Spinner's End, after his father got a job working at the local factory. It had been three days since they had finished settling in, and Severus hated it. He missed _tad-cu_'s farm and _modryb_'s cooking.

"You know perfectly well why we can't go back to your grandfather's." Eileen stated. "Your father found work here."

"He shouldn't have quit teaching." Severus argued. "I liked living with _tad-cu_."

"Do I need to stick you in the basement again, son?" Eileen asked. Severus could hear the frustration in her voice, and knew that she was serious. Her temper was always shorter when she was brewing potions for mail-order customers.

"Can't I at least help you, mother?" He sidled over to where his mother stood over the cauldron, until he could almost grasp the hem of her blouse.

Before he could come closer, Eileen's left arm shot out, grasping the cartilage of his ear. She twisted it slightly, and shoved him out of the kitchen.

"I've told you, you can help when you know the Pepper-up Potion by heart." she scolded him. "If I have to warn you again, you'll be sitting in the basement until your father gets home."

"I only wanted to help!" he grumbled, stomping through the parlour.

"You can help me by something quiet to do."

Severus crossed his arms over his small chest and pouted at the window. Ever since moving here, he'd become so lonely. When they'd lived near Tredegar with _tad-cu_, he'd never been alone. His mother had always been out in the work-shed, making her potions, and his father had worked at a nearby school as a professor of History. _Modryb_, his father's oldest sister, had often let Severus sit in the kitchen while she cooked – a privilege that none of his cousins ever received – and sometimes, even let him cut up the vegetables for her delicious soups and stews. Once, he had asked his mother why he couldn't help to make potions when _modryb_ let him help to make stew.

'Aunt Christin is a _muggle_,' his mother had scolded him. 'Potions require magic, and one tiny wing can be the difference between a brew that can heal or a brew that can kill.'

At the time, he thought the word 'muggle' was interchangeable with 'moron'. He'd thought it strange, because _modryb_ seemed so smart. She always knew when his cousins weren't feeling well, even before they did, and she was the only one other than Severus who was capable of solving _tad-cu_'s riddles.

It was no secret to him, though, that his mother disliked _modryb_. One beautiful summer afternoon, while his cousins were visiting their paternal grandparents, modryb took him out to the barn to see the kittens that had just been born. His mother had been coming out of the work shed at that very moment.

'What are you doing with my son?' she had shouted. Severus had clung to modryb's sleeve in surprise, never having seen his mother angry before.

'Ye can't keep 'im locked away fer ever, Eil,' modryb had replied evenly. 'Fresh air's good fer 'im.'

His mother hadn't agreed, and that evening when his father returned, Tobias had told his sister in no uncertain terms that it wasn't to happen again, as she didn't "understand the consequences" it could have. Severus didn't understand either.

"Why don't you go up to your room and read?" Eileen suggested.

"Yes, mother." Severus replied with a heavy sigh. He crossed the parlour towards the stairs, feeling the temptation of the front door calling him. He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen. His mother would never be able to see the front door from where she stood by her cauldron.

For a child who never took chances, and almost never acted out, Severus decided to take a risk for once in his young life. He tip-toed towards the front door, and turned the knob. When his mother never looked up, he decided that it was safe to go outside. He could play for an hour easily without his mother noticing, and be back inside the house before his father ever got home. He opened the door slightly, and slid through the opening out into the over-cast day.

The door shut soundlessly behind him, leaving him standing on the stoop, facing out towards the children still playing in the street. Upon seeing him, they stopped kicking their ball around.

"Who're you?" the tallest boy asked.

"Severus." he replied nervously. "Severus Snape."

"Snape, eh?" another, somewhat heavier set boy scoffed. "That's the name of the bloke as got my da fired yesterday."

Severus wasn't quite sure what was happening, other than the children no longer looked happy, or friendly. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, you /should/ be sorry." the heavy-set boy said. "My da never hurt anyone, and yours comes along and ruins everything. I bet you're just like your da. Worthless piece of rubbish, you!"

"No, I -"

"Let's get him!"

Severus bolted from the stoop as the children started to run towards him. His legs felt like jelly as he ran towards a river, and he could hear the sound of the children just on his heels. His ankle turned suddenly, sending him splashing into the water face-first.

"Ow!" His cry of pain didn't deter the children chasing him. The tall one grabbed a fist-full of Severus' hair and yanked him onto his feet. "Let go!"

He wasn't prepared for the punch to his stomach, but he'd seen his cousins tussle in the yard often enough to know how to respond. He elbowed the boy back in the stomach, then kneed him in the groin before running off towards the woods. He didn't stop running, not even after he could no longer hear the children's shouts of anger. At last, his legs collapsed beneath him, and he crawled behind a thick bush, pulling his weakened legs up to his chest and gasping for air.

"Higher, mummy! Higher!"

At the sound of a girlish giggle, Severus started. Curious, he peered through the bush and into a child's park, where a family of four were gathered by the swings. A woman with elegantly styled red hair was pushing a young, red-haired girl on a swing.

"Any higher and you'll fall off!" a somewhat older girl retorted stubbornly.

"Calm down, Tuney," said a well-dressed man with a smile. "Let your sister have her fun."

"Watch me, Tuney!" Lily implored. As the swing reached the highest point, Lily seemed to push herself from the seat, sending herself falling through the air. Or rather, she /should/ have fallen through the air, Severus decided, watching in fascination as the red-haired girl seemed to float to the ground like a leaf on the wind.

Tuney shouted in horror. "Don't do that! Father, tell her to stop that!"

"Lily, you know you aren't supposed to do that out here." the man admonished softly.

Lily frowned, and ran to her father, hugging him tightly. "I didn't mean to scare anyone."

"We know that, dear," the mother said. "We just love you, and want to protect you. You understand, don't you, love?"

Lily nodded.

"There's my princess. What do you say head home?"

Severus watched as the small family walked away from the swings and out of the park. Once he was certain they had gone, he pushed his way through the shrubbery and walked towards the swing Lily had flown off of. Laying beneath the swing was an ivory colored silk ribbon. He picked it up, and thought of the girl, Lily, as she'd giggled with her family.

He trudged dutifully back through the woods towards the river, noting with not a small amount of glee that the awful children who had chased him were gone. He crossed the river, scrunching up his face at the feel of water soaking through his socks and shoes. He finally reached the stoop of their new home, and only barely opened the door when his mother was upon him, grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him forcefully towards the basement.

"No!" he shouted, struggling against her iron grip.

"How dare you say 'no' to me, after you directly disobeyed me?" his mother demanded. "You could have been kidnapped, or killed!"

"I'm fine!" he retorted, watching as she opened the door that led to the basement.

"You're a complete mess! Your clothes are ruined, you awful child!"

He didn't get a chance to respond before his mother dragged him down the stairs, shoving him into the chair in the far corner, facing the wall. He felt the sticking charm take effect, holding him captive on the chair.

"Just wait until your father gets home!" Eileen threatened ominously, storming back up the stairs. She slammed the door shut, trapping him in the pitch-black basement.

At first, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared into the darkness. The silk ribbon he had picked up in the park was still clenched tightly in his fist, reminding him of the cheerful red-haired girl who was oblivious to his existence He clung to the ribbon like a rosary, praying for strength even as he imagined monsters lurking in the inky darkness, waiting to devour him alive. His heart was pounding in his chest, his legs still sore from running, when the basement door swung open, and light descended into the basement.

"... disobeyed me deliberately!"

Severus gasped as his father picked him up under the arms, the sticking charm fading instantly and causing the chair to clatter to the floor. Hoisted over his father's shoulder, Severus was hauled up the stairs, forced to listen as his mother recounted each of his crimes to her husband.

"Ye know better than te disobey yer ma, boy!" Tobias scolded, setting him down in the parlour. Large hands grasped his shoulders roughly, shaking him slightly. "What d'ye have te say fer yerself?"

Face screwing up in anger, Severus replied, "There were children playing outside, and I -"

Before he could complete his sentence, his father had him turned around, and swatted him ungently on the backside with his hand. "Where're yer manners, boy?"

Severus bit his lip. "I'm sorry. Sir." he amended. "But I wanted to play with the children outside, and -"

"Ye know yer not allowed outside, boy." Tobias stated.

"But I -" Another swat landed on his backside.

"Do I need te take a belt te yer behind, boy?" His father turned him around again, so that they were face-to-face. "Yer ol' enough te know better. Ye've only got two rules in this life, boy: obey yer parents, and do well in yer schooling. Ye understand?"

Severus nodded tersely. "Yes, sir."

"So ye understand why yer going te bed without supper t'night?" Tobias asked. "Or d'ye need an additional reminder?"

"I understand, sir. I'm sorry, sir." Severus turned to face his mother, but stared at her shoes. "I'm sorry I misbehaved, mother."

Eileen sighed, and approached her son. She fingered his long hair absently, and he could almost taste her disappointment at the state of his being. "What a mess you are, Severus. How can one little boy be so messy?"

Perhaps it was exhaustion, or perhaps it was simply that small, nurturing gesture that he so rarely received from his mother, but whatever the reason, Severus let out a small, pathetic whimper and leaned forward in an attempt to hug his mother's waist.

"One minute, you." Eileen scolded him, grasping his shoulders and holding him at arm's length. She murmured something softly beneath her breath, and he could feel the dirt and grime that caked his clothes slough off in thick, dried sheets. By now, tears were falling unbidden from his eyes, dripping down his pointed chin. Eileen shook her head and sighed, pulling him forward and wrapping her arms around his small body. "Why are you crying?"

Severus buried his face in his mother's neck, his hands clinging to the fabric of her blouse. "I hurt my foot."

"Let's take a look at it, shall we? Hop up on the sofa, let your father roll up your pant leg."

Severus did as he was told, and watched as Tobias knelt on the floor in front of him, his big hands carefully rolling up the fabric of his son's pants.

His father let out a long whistle. "That'll be a nasty bruise. How'd ye get that?"

Severus sniffled, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. "The children chased me towards the river, and my foot got stuck in the mud. It hurt lots, but they were still chasing me, so I had to get up and run some more. I don't think I like running."

"I don't think yer much cut out fer running." Tobias laughed lightly, moving so that Eileen could rub a salve on their son's ankle. "Stick te yer books, boy. They hurt less."

"I wish you had been there at the end with me, mother." Severus continued, feeling much happier as his ankle hurt less. "There was a park, and a family playing on the swings, and one of the girls flew just like the angels _tad-cu_ talks about! Doesn't that make her a witch, too?"

"Most likely muggle-born." his mother responded, sharing a dark look with her husband. "It happens every now and then. They don't know any better, or they wouldn't let her out of the house."

"How old was the girl ye saw, boy?"

"Dunno," Severus replied. "About my age, I guess."

He noted with suspicion that his parents exchanged another look.

"Alright then. I think it's time ye went to bed, boy."

"It's only four-thirty!" Severus whined.

"I can still get the belt if ye want," Tobias warned.

Severus hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll go to bed now."

"There's a good boy. Go on. We'll see ye in the morning."

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>

P.S. Chapter 7 will definitely see the first "official" therapy session.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"What," Harry asked, "does that story have to do with you wanting to see my grandmother?"

He watched in fascination as Snape began to fume where he sat, black eyes glittering with feverish fury.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but if you don't want to hear about my past, then I'd suggest you do your homework." Snape sniped. "Lupin is the only one who is required to be here for 'therapy' sessions."

"But I -" Frustrated with impatience, Harry could barely string together a thought that wouldn't put Snape in an even fouler mood.

"Make yourself quiet and attentive, or make yourself scarce. Which would you prefer?" After Harry crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to speak, Snape seemed to calm down. "Thank you. I'll have you know that the events of my childhood greatly impacted my adult life, and is what motivated me to ask for your grandmother's presence in all of my drunken glory."

"What night was that, anyway?" Remus asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Snape glared at Lupin. "If I'm to divulge my thought-process and feelings," he sneered, "then it will be at my own pace."

The werewolf held up his hands slightly, shaking his head. "As you will, Severus. Please, do go on."

The Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest, and looked thoughtfully at the wall for a moment. "My mother thought that I was... a squib. Until that point in my life, I had shown not one iota of accidental magic, despite the caution that my parents employed. It should be noted that while Muggle-born witches and wizards have often successfully bred magically-adept children with purebloods, unions of muggles and purebloods often result in squibs."

"Why -"

"It's genetics, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice was laden with irritation. "The ability to use magic is an entirely recessive trait. Purebloods that produce children with purebloods will certainly have children capable of using magic, unless otherwise deformed by inbreeding. Most muggles do not possess the recessive gene."

"But my mum... my mum was a witch, and she was Muggle born."

"It's rare that Muggles carry the gene," Remus said gently, "but it can happen. And when two Muggles with the gene have children, there is a chance of a witch or wizard being born to them. Just like two squibs can potentially produce a magically capable child."

"I... guess that makes sense." Harry nodded slightly. "But if that's the case, and it all happens naturally, then why is Voldemort so obsessed with blood purity?"

"I can only assume because those around him are obsessed with it." Snape shrugged. "When I was a boy, Potter, I was constantly teased due to my heritage. Muggle children didn't like me because my father was the overseer in the factory, and my mother was 'odd' to them. My peers at Hogwarts didn't like me because I was a... how did Black phrase it? 'Greasy little half-blood know-it-all,' I believe was his choice of words."

Remus didn't correct him.

"Whatever finally drove him over the edge, I can assure you, in the end it was the sense of _not belonging_ anywhere."

"I felt that way, when I first got on the Hogwarts Express my first year." Harry murmured.

"While I'm certain that you were uncomfortable with the unfamiliar surroundings," Snape growled, "I am also certain that you were accepted into many social circles simply for the scar on your head. Just as I am also quite positive that you, unlike the Dark Lord, had friends who were and are as close to you as your parents undoubtedly would be, had they survived." Snape seemed to sense Harry's frustration. "As much as I would like to continue this debate, we've strayed drastically from the topic at hand." He cleared his throat. "As I said, my mother thought that I was a squib, and when I first saw your mother that day in the park, I feared that I was one, too. I couldn't imagine living the rest of my life as a muggle, because I had never experienced muggle life outside of my grandfather's home. So I went back to the park every day, hoping to see Lily's magic enough that perhaps I could figure out how to do it myself. The things she did – flying through the air, or causing flowers to dance – were things that I had never imagined before, and things that I had little care for."

Harry could hear the unspoken jealousy in Snape's dark voice.

"I was the first person to tell Lily that she was a witch." The professor shook his head, closed his eyes and grimaced. "It was... a disaster. Both she and her sister thought I was calling her names. It took several encounters to convince Lily that I was telling her the truth. _Petunia_ didn't like your mother talking to me. She decided to spy on us, and startled me. My first accidental magic was a branch falling to hit her on the shoulder."

"W-what?" Harry was incredulous. Aunt Petunia had always been something of a snoop – always concerned with what the neighbors were doing and why – but now Harry was starting to see perhaps why she had abhorred magic throughout his childhood. Perhaps it wasn't jealousy of her sister's magic, but fear of what the magic of strangers could do to her.

"I didn't hurt her." Snape said defensively. "It barely even touched her."

"If she was anything like the girl I knew at school, I imagine that Lily wasn't very pleased with you." Remus remarked darkly.

"No. No, she wasn't." Snape replied tersely. "She didn't believe that I couldn't control it – and why should she have? I'd let her believe that I'd done magic before. She must have thought I had as much control over my magic as she did hers."

He wasn't sure what was more surprising – that Snape was voluntarily revealing his imperfections, or the look of pure devastation on his face. Harry had never seen the man look so... human.

"She didn't talk to me for weeks. I don't know that she ever would have, if not for those cruel children..."

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


End file.
